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I am house-sitting for Bob[1] and Jill, like I did last year. I have Bethany and another missionary, Nina, with me. The first thing we noticed was that the dishwasher didn’t work. Bob and Jill have three very active young sons, so having a functioning dishwasher would be a real blessing for them. Because we wanted to bless them, we called a repairman and got the dishwasher fixed. We had also noticed that the wooden cover for the dishwasher had been removed, leaving it without any handle and thus making it difficult to open. The repairman noted that the cover needed to be shaved-down because it was a bit too wide at the bottom, and so wouldn’t open properly if re-installed.

We didn’t want to leave the job half done, so we asked around for a carpenter, knowing that a carpenter could plane it down in just a few minutes. But we couldn’t find any carpenter anywhere—and believe me, we looked for several hours all over town.

This morning I was in my usual place by the window, writing on my computer. Then I saw that there were three men in the garden. They entered, carrying a wooden gate, and mounted it as I watched. On a whim, I asked, “Are you carpenters?” They said, “No, but we work for a carpenter.” I told them about the problem of the dishwasher cover. One came in and looked at it. He quickly saw what the problem was. I said, “You see, it doesn’t actually require a carpenter, just one of his tools (I didn’t know the Italian word for plane).” He smiled and said, “Yes, but the carpenter has that tool, we don’t.”

He took the wooden cover with him, and went back to work on the gate. Occasionally he asked to plug a tool in. Then about half an hour later, he came back inside with the cover planed-down, and installed it—a perfect fit!

But this didn’t fix the dishwasher one hundred percent. And we wanted to fix it completely. The repairman said that the bottom shelf was missing six wheels. It had the two front wheels, but lacked all the rest. The repairman said that he had wheels in his shop and would bring them by the next time he was in the neighborhood. This two weeks ago. I was fairly certain that he had forgotten all about the wheels. But today—today!—the dishwasher repairman called to ask if we would be home after three this afternoon because he would be in the neighborhood.

He came by and installed the wheels: pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop—done!

We all marveled at how, just when we had been looking for one, God sent us a carpenter. And He made sure that the job was completely and properly finished. Isn’t that what He also did for us all? Just when things looked their worst, God sent us a Carpenter, and He made sure that the job was completely and properly finished. Hallelujah! God is good!

I don’t think of myself as a scary or intimidating person. But with one word I can strike terror into the hearts of people in many countries throughout Europe. And it doesn’t matter what that word is or what language it’s in.

Last evening was a perfect example: I was having dinner in the hotel restaurant here in Budapest. Like most hotels and hotel restaurants in cities throughout Europe, the staff speak English—at least enough to do their jobs. The restaurant was empty for a while, so it was just me and the two waiters. One waiter, let’s call him Neo, had served me coffee earlier in the afternoon. He spoke excellent English.

The other waiter had seated me then skittered off and busied himself with the task of removing one fork from each place setting on each table. When Neo emerged from the kitchen the frightened waiter whispered something to him. Neo came to give me a menu, then joined the other man in the task of fork removal. I quickly made my choice and then watched as both men worked their way closer and closer to me. The frightened waiter worked his way to me, skipping my table and moving on without once looking directly at me. Neo, seeing that my menu was closed, came and took my order.

The thing I had done to so frighten the other waiter was this: I spoke English. The poor man was terrified that I might speak to him in English. I have seen this reaction many times in Italy. I am fluent in Italian. But even if I speak Italian, many times people will panic when they hear my English-accented Italian, fearing that I will switch to English.

And guess who is the most frightened of all: my own English students. Some students who stopped coming to me for English lessons years ago will get that look of terror in their eyes when they see me enter a room. When (if) they speak to me, they will speak only Italian. Some won’t risk speaking to me at all. In non-classroom settings, I have never insisted that my students speak English with me. I prefer my social interactions to be relaxed and stress-free. But most of them have never given me the chance to tell them that—in any language.

That’s not to say that all my English students are afraid of speaking English. Many brave souls will speak English with me. A few will actually seek me out for English conversation. But those lazy ones who didn’t want to study, instead wishing that I would just open their skulls and pour the language inside. Or maybe they want me to find the USB port in their brains and download the English language file. Sorry to say, it simply doesn’t work that way.

One time I saw that terror reaction from one word to an American boy in his early 20’s. He was sitting beside me in an airport restaurant in the US. He asked where I was going, and I said, “Milan.” He asked what I do there. At the word “missionary” I thought he was going to throw up. He quickly finished, paid, and left. I’m not going to speculate on why he had that extreme reaction, but I do pray for him from time to time.

Then today at lunch the tables were turned on me. I had ordered in English, and so enjoyed my lunch (chanterelle mushroom soup—yum!) that when the waiter took my plate and asked how I liked it, I answered one of the dozen or so Hungarian words I know: finom (delicious). He answered something in Hungarian. And every time he came back, he spoke to me in Hungarian.

When the frightened waiter from last night came to start his shift, my lunch waiter whispered something to him. Now I was the one with the terrified look. Here’s how my imagination translated that whispered sentence: “You’re wrong, Laszlo, she does speak Hungarian! She’s been holding out on us!”

When I had it in my heart two years ago to get an apartment in Milan, the idea was to use it as a guesthouse for visiting missionaries and pastors—the first ever (though I am not the only one to have this idea). As I started using my first apartment for hosting, there was a lot of opposition—opposition which had a human face, but was clearly inspired by the enemy that is not flesh and blood. At that time I hadn’t built a team of intercessors for the ministry yet. That was a classic rookie mistake. I am still learning how to do this whole missionary/ministry thing. Anyway, as a result of the opposition, I was led to leave that apartment, go on last summer’s Faith Trip, and spend the past 13 months living out of a suitcase, first here and then in the US.

Upon my return to Italy, I got a green light from God to go look for an apartment. This time around, the guesthouse apartment project has a team of intercessors praying it through to victory. This was the second apartment I looked at—and I really only looked at the other one as a courtesy to a friend.

Besides serving as a missionary guesthouse, this apartment will have a second purpose, as a House of Prayer for Europe—the first House of Prayer specifically for Europe.

I am now in the apartment, but nowhere near ready for hosting. When I moved in two weeks ago, the apartment was empty—even the kitchen was empty, just 4 walls and pipes coming out of one of those walls. The kitchen is still empty, but little by little the rest of the apartment is being filled. Here is a list of things still needed for the apartment:

Refrigerator

Kitchen cabinets, sink

Oven, stove

Beds – 4 (I am sleeping on a folding bed donated by a friend)

Sofas – 1 large, 1 loveseat (one loveseat was donated by a friend)

Wardrobes – 5 (a friend has two large wardrobes and one small to give me, but we need to figure out how to get them here)

Tables – 1 small (2-4 seats), 1 large (8+ seats)

Chairs – 15, plus folding chairs

Bedside tables – 3

Light fixtures – 6 ceiling, 1 wall, 1 with mirror for bathroom

Lamps – 2 desk lamps, 2 bedside, 2 floor lamps

Dressers – 2

Desks – 2

Bookshelves – 3

Rolling garment racks – 8

You may be wondering about that last item. Why on earth would I need rolling garment racks, and why eight of them? The custodian of the building loaned me a rolling garment rack and it answered a couple of problems for the living room, which will serve as the House of Prayer: how to display the flags of Europe in such a way that they can easily be taken down, prayed over, waved, danced with, etc. The racks with flags on S hooks will also help to divide the living room into living and dining space without such division being permanent.

On Sunday I saw two English-speaking friends at church. One of them expressed a need for fellowship in English. I said, “Why don’t you come over and we’ll have a Bible study?” So we set an appointment for the next evening in my apartment. I contacted the other friend and invited her, too. She eagerly accepted and asked for my address. We had both moved since the last time we had seen each other (over a year ago), but I knew that she still lived in the same neighborhood. When she saw my address she replied, “I live on the same street—girlfriend, we’re neighbors!”

In preparing for the Bible study, I spent time in prayer, inviting the Holy Spirit to be our Teacher. I love to teach, but I love even more hearing from God. In introducing these two friends to each other, a lesson flowed effortlessly from the conversation. The Holy Spirit had indeed showed up and taught us from God’s Word. And we each enjoyed an evening of beautiful fellowship.

One friend was looking for work, and the other had a wonderful idea for finding plenty of work.

Although the house is bare, and I only had two small lights, a loveseat, and two folding chairs, I was very happy to see the apartment begin its ministry purpose. This was the first of many such evenings. And it happened through a series of coincidences, though not really coincidences, if you know what I mean.

It’s funny, but you don’t really appreciate the simple things in life until you’ve had to do without. After thirteen months of living out of a suitcase, I am so grateful to have moved into an apartment of my own again.

However, many people would call my new-found luxury “roughing it.” The apartment is unfurnished, and in Italy, “unfurnished” means that the kitchen consists of walls, a floor, and pipes coming out of one of those walls. But I already have everything I need to do all the cooking I intend to do . . . for now. Here’s a picture of what I’ve set up for myself as a substitute kitchen.

What you’re seeing is an ironing board covered by a tablecloth, and on top of it (from right to left): an electric kettle, a blender, a coffee canister, a juicer, a cutting board under a cappuccino cup with a sieve, lined with a paper towel and filled with coffee (with a plastic plate to catch any overflow). So I can make American coffee and juices of all sorts. And that’s really all the cooking I yearn to do these days. With summer swiftly approaching, I’m not likely to want to do anything else that could result in the house becoming hotter.

The next picture is my office.

To the right on the floor is my printer, behind the computer you can see that the “desk” also doubles as a dinner table. Above the printer you can see a little corner of the “kitchen.” Otherwise, the room is gloriously uncluttered.

The final picture is the new arrival in the house—in fact, it just arrived moments ago.

Yes, I have a washer! But in one of those moments when life tries to take away your joy, the delivery guy told me that there’s no hookup for the water (notice the hose). There’s a pipe for it just to the left of the hose, but it needs a connector, which means I need a plumber.

However, I refuse to let anything take away my joy. Therefore, I would like to point out that for now the washer serves as another flat surface on which I can put stuff. You can see the dishwashing liquid on the bathroom sink. Now I can wash my cup and I don’t have to balance it on the tiny ledge of the sink. How’s that for taking life’s lemons and making lemonade!

Of course, I’ll have to get all the stuff for a real kitchen, including a sink, but for now, I am loving my bare-bones luxury.

Change is an exhilarating, often uncomfortable thing, but with change comes growth. Growth is what I see in the future: Growth for the ministry and growth for my faith. Change and the resulting growth are part of the law of the Kingdom. God is doing a new thing!

Changes:

The organization has had a change of personnel. Debbie has left to follow God’s call on her life. Thanks, Debbie, for all your help, and all the best for the future.

Laurie has volunteered to take over as the interim (hopefully permanent!) Secretary/Treasurer on our Board of Directors. Laurie and I have been friends for almost 35 years. She is a woman of big faith and a fierce prayer warrior wrapped in a cute little package. Welcome, Laurie! I look forward to a fruitful collaboration.

With the change in personnel, also comes a change of name. Barnabas European Ministries will change its name to European Faith Missions. Our 501(c)3 tax exempt status with the IRS remains intact, so all donations are still tax-deductible.

I have just acquired the apartment in Milan that God indicated to me back in the beginning of April. This means the end of living out of a suitcase—after 13 months, I was ready!—a very welcome change, indeed! But it also means the beginning of several other challenges:

The apartment is empty and needs everything, including the kitchen sink (really!).

When the apartment is furnished, I will open it up as a missionary guesthouse—the first ever in Milan.

The apartment will also serve as a House of Prayer for Europe—the first anywhere specifically to pray for Europe.

In pursuit of the apartment, I’ve had to cease my travels. But now I have a pretty busy travel schedule coming up.

With such a busy travel schedule, I will need a caretaker for the apartment once it is opened for guests.